by Lily Cahill
Yet her presence lingers. I leave her chair empty and sit next to Mom.
“I met someone,” I say to the quiet kitchen. “Then I lost him again. And I don’t know what to do.”
Mom turns finally, her focus on me. She grabs my hand. “Oh, baby girl, I’m sorry. Tell me about it.”
So I do. Not just the polished, perfect version I should, but all of it. About the bet and Shelby and Jess.
“For once, I wasn’t trying to be what someone wanted, Mom. I didn’t have to pretend I was always happy. I was just me, and it felt so nice.”
Mom frowns. “You can always just be you, Nara.”
I sigh heavily. “Can I? After Yaya overdosed I spent so much time trying to be enough for you and Dad. To be enough to equal two, perfect daughters. I’ve been pretending for so long, I was afraid there was no me left. It wasn’t until Ben ….” My voice hitches in my throat, and I have to stop.
Mom pulls me to her chest in a tight hug. She’s soft and warm, and she smells of lemon soap. “Dad and I don’t want you pretending to be anything other than you are. We get enough pretending from your sister.”
“But, Mom,” I say, holding back tears. “I’m afraid there’s darkness in me, just like there is in Yaya. I’m afraid it’s all going to be too much, and I’m going to give up just like she did.”
Mom grabs my shoulders and sits back to look me in the eye. “Kinara Robinson, you are not your sister. You two have always been so different, and that’s something Dad and I love about you. We don’t want you to ever try to be a new Yaya for us. We just want you to be Nara.”
Mom pulls me close again and rests her chin on the top of my head. “Sweet child, we love you. And what you’ve told me about this Ben, he loves you too.”
“But what do I do?”
“You fight for him. You apologize, and you admit you did wrong but plan on making it right. That’s what love is, Nara. It’s waking up each day resolved to do right by your relationship. If it were easy, there’d be no Masterpiece Theater.”
I have to laugh at that, because Mom is right. When I leave a couple hours later, stuffed from dinner and soothed by my parents, I am ready to make it right with Ben.
Chapter Seventeen
Ben
THE ROOM IS SILENT. MY teammates are never silent. They’re always moving, talking, joking. But now … now no one speaks.
The silence presses down on me, like I’m under a million gallons of water. All around me, the sharks circle, waiting for the first hint of blood.
And it’s Nara’s fault. She betrayed me, my secrets. She made me betray Shelby all over again. It settles over my skin like a hundred biting flies, tearing me apart piece by piece. Maybe, if they tear enough away, I’ll be able to stop loving Nara. Because that’s the cruelest part of this: I still love Nara.
“Men,” Coach Prescott begins, pulling me back out of my mind. His eyes cut to me, then away again.
I sit with my elbows braced on my knees, my fingers tightly locked. It’s Thursday night, and we’re supposed to spend the next two hours analyzing OU’s offense and defense to prepare for Saturday’s homecoming game. But I know what Coach is about to say has nothing to do with the University of Oklahoma’s football team.
“Saturday is meant to be our big comeback,” Coach Prescott says. “We’ve clawed our way into the national standings, we’ve won out on the field. But homecoming is meant to prove beyond a doubt that we’re back, that we’re a team. It’s time to truly put the scandal of last year behind us. It is not time for a new scandal.”
All eyes shift to me.
“I have to be honest with you men, it’d be easiest to just quietly remove Mayhew from the team.”
His words roar through me, pulse through every muscle. I lurch to my feet before I even realize I’m standing. The room tenses, waits.
“Coach,” I say.
How easy it’d be right now to pull that familiar mask into place. To scorn these men and leave them behind, leave them hating me. Part of me wants to, to prove Nara wrong. She thought she knew me, thought she’d figured me out. When the whole time, I was a bet, a person to manipulate to get what she wanted. God, it guts me to think she could have been so untrue.
I just don’t understand it. Yet just as disconcerting, I don’t understand why I can’t make myself sneer and walk out this door right now. But I can’t.
The reality grips me in an iron fist. I want this … this team, this experience. I want to play football. I feel it from the hard set of my jaw, through my bones, down to the roots of my body.
The room is still silent. Someone coughs. I’m standing here like a git, openly and closing my mouth without a word coming out.
I look at the men from whom I hope I’ve finally earned respect: Riley, Reggie, West. Coach Prescott.
“You have every right to toss me off this team,” I finally say. “I know what I was like to work with,” I say, looking at Coach, before turning to my teammates and add, “play with. I was arrogant, thick-headed. And I was alone.” At the back, Dwayne Sheehan laughs meanly, and a few other men shift in their seats. But I can’t stop now.
“But playing alongside you, every single one of you, it’s taught me what it means to truly be part of something. We can be good alone, but together … together we can be great. And I want to be part of it. It’s terrifying how much I want to be part of this. I want to be a Mustang. I want to wear the silver and blue and run out onto that field on Saturday and be part of your team.”
The room is still silent. But the feeling has shifted, if a little bit. Some men meet my eyes, a few are even nodding.
“I want to be on this team. If you’ll have me.” I have nothing else to say. I sit down heavily and stare at the ground. My breath is thick at the back of my throat, and I curl my fingers into tight fists to hide how I’m shaking.
“Mayhew deserves to be here.” I yank my head up to see West standing. He looks at me. “If there’s even a kernel of truth in those stories we all read, he came here to make a fresh start. Isn’t that what we’re all trying to do?”
Reggie stands. “And he’s the fastest fucker out there. I don’t know about you guys, but I want to win. We need Ben out on the field to do that.”
A handful of more men stand, silently agreeing with West and Reggie. I dare a glance at Coach Prescott, hoping like mad that I’ll see agreement in his face. He’s pulled his ball cap low, his mouth tight. Finally, he holds up a hand to catch our attention.
“I’ll take everything into consideration and let Mayhew know the decision before the game.”
His tone brooks no argument. The conversation is done, and all I can do is hope that I’ll still be a Mustang come Saturday.
After the strategy session, I walk home alone in the dark, a stiff wind against my face. I shove my hands into my pockets and duck my chin against the harsh chill.
Taylor Hall is quiet, many of the dorm room windows shuttered and dark. Barely watching where I’m walking, I trudge up the steps and pull open the big front door. I’m halfway across the foyer to the stairs when someone clears his throat.
I turn and suck in a breath. It’s my parents. Father is leaning against the far wall, Mum perched at the edge of a chair next to him.
She stands and comes closer, her small hands curving around my wrists. “Ben, it’s time to come home.”
Chapter Eighteen
Nara
MY KNEES ARE WATERY, MY stomach in knots. It’d be so much easier to just text Ben, ask him to talk. But I can’t leave this to chance. I need to see him, to explain. To apologize.
My feet are heavy on the stairs up to his dorm room. I stand before the door, my hand poised to knock. I can hear muffled voices inside—more than one. Lord, I’m afraid I’m going to be sick. The long, handwritten letter folded in the pocket of my jacket feels stiff. I shift back and forth on my sneakers. I should have just come after cheer practice, when I had more time. When I wasn’t wearing cotton practice shorts and a te
e.
I should have told Ben right away about Jess’ stupid bet.
I shore up my courage and pull my hand back to knock.
The door next to me swings inward. It’s Reggie. His eyes shift from me to something inside his dorm then back again.
“I need to talk to Ben,” I say.
Reggie opens the door wider. His dorm room is so much messier than Ben’s, but it’s identical. The door to their shared kitchen and bathroom is open, and the voices I’d heard in Ben’s room are louder.
“Sorry, Nara. He’s busy right now.”
“Please, Reggie.” I dig the letter out of my pocket. “I’ve got to explain what happened.”
Reggie glances at the letter then back through the kitchen. “Things are … complicated. I just don’t think he wants to talk to you right now.”
The voices in Ben’s room grow louder, and now I can hear that all three have British accents. His parents? Why are they here? Fear lances through me and the desire to see Ben pulses, insistent. I need to talk to him, but not with his parents there. We need to talk alone. Before it’s too late.
I press the letter into Reggie’s hand. “Give this to him. Please. I need him to understand.”
A frown ghosts across Reggie’s normally open and grinning face, but he takes the letter. “Not sure it’s going to make a difference, Nara.”
“Even so.” My heart is heavy, my limbs heavy. Sorrow and regret hang on me like weights.
“I’ll give it to him.”
The voices grow louder, closer. I turn away from Reggie and out the door. I’m at the top of the stairs when the door creaks open again.
“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice calls.
I pause, gather myself. I have to dash tears away from under my eyes, then I finally turn.
A woman stands with her shoulders thrown back and her eyes half-hooded outside Ben’s door. It’s got to be his mother. She has the same unruly brown hair, though hers is secured back off her face. She walks closer.
“You’re Nara Robinson, yes?”
I can only nod.
The line of her mouth goes rigid. “Hasn’t my son been through enough?” The anger makes her voice quiver, but her eyes are sharp. “Why did you have to dredge up all the old annoyances?”
That word makes me frown. “Annoyances? You mean the fatal car accident? Or the fact that his friends sold him out to the papers?”
Mrs. Mayhew’s eyes narrow. “Yes, well ….”
“He needed you to be there for him, not just tell him to buck up and get over it.”
“What would you know about it?”
Mrs. Mayhew may be angry, but I’m livid. Ben needed his parents’ support. His girlfriend had died, and he was all alone to deal with it. No wonder he had to get away from Britain.
“I know more than you think. I’ve dealt with my own tragedies, and have had to figure it out on my own. But Ben and I ….” I shake my head, trying to keep from crying. “I love your son fiercely, Mrs. Mayhew. I made a mistake, but it was a mistake. It wasn’t done on purpose or in spite. You want to know what happened? I looked him up online—”
“To see how much he’s worth, no doubt,” Mrs. Mayhew says with a sneer.
“No,” I counter. “To see what had made him so miserable. To try to figure out how this man that I was falling for could have such darkness in him. My mistake was that I googled him without realizing others were watching. I never gossiped about him to anyone.”
Mrs. Mayhew watches me, her sharp eyes drilling into me. But I have nothing to hide from her, from anyone. Finally, she says, “And this bet? Something about your little cheer club?”
“I’m a collegiate athlete, ma’am, just like your son. And the bet … it was stupid and immature, but that’s between me and Ben to talk through.”
“I’m his mother,” she starts, like that entitles her to know every bit of his business.
“And I’m his girlfriend. I love him, Mrs. Mayhew. And I think he loves me too. But more than that, we make each other happy. I’ve been happier these few weeks with Ben than I think I ever have.”
Finally, Mrs. Mayhew drops her gaze, and her shoulders slump forward. It takes her a moment before she looks up. “Would you still love him, even if he had nothing?”
“We’d still have each other.”
“His father has given him an ultimatum. Come home and put this all behind him—you included—or he loses his title and inheritance. It’s no idle threat, Miss Robinson.”
My heart aches for Ben, to have parents try to manipulate his actions like this. But I look Mrs. Mayhew straight in the eyes. “I’ve never had either, so I don’t know how I could miss it. All I know is, I love Ben no matter what. I want to see him happy. He deserves it.”
I have nothing more to say to this woman, so I turn around and rush down the stairs.
She catches me before I’ve made it through the front door.
“You’re right,” she says, breathing a bit heavy. She closes her eyes for a moment. “I wasn’t there for Ben when I should have been. I thought … I forget what it’s like to be young and in love, and I didn’t think he truly cared for Shelby more as than just a dalliance. I should have seen how my son was hurting. I’ve missed him so much since he left.”
“Have you told him that?”
Mrs. Mayhew looks down, and her silence is all the answer I need. Her eyes are bright when she looks up. “I’ll try to talk to his father, see if I can change Alistair’s mind. I’ve been keeping up with his games, you know. He really is very good, isn’t he?”
“He’s amazing, Mrs. Mayhew.”
“Perhaps we’ll still be here Saturday.”
Hope swells in my chest. I’ve said what I needed to say, not hid behind a front of always being calm, always doing what others want. And it might have made a difference. I smile at Mrs. Mayhew. “I hope you’ll all be there.”
Shouts echo through the practice gym when I arrive. I’m early, but I’m apparently not the first one here.
My name pierces the air, and I freeze just inside the entrance to the gym.
“Nara gets everything! Don’t give her my stunt, Coach!”
I peek around the corner to see Coach Higgins and Jess squaring off, their profiles tense. Coach Higgins throws up her hands.
“You were late to the homecoming parade, Jess. That is unacceptable. But is it really what Coach Prescott says? You were behind those photos and nasty articles that went around?”
Jess crosses her arms. “I’m just looking out for the team. People deserve to know the truth. ”
I can’t take this. I stalk into the room toward Jess and our cheer coach. “Yeah, Jess. They do.” Her eyes pop wide, but I ignore her and focus on Coach Higgins. “The truth is, Coach. Jess made a bet with me. She’d give me the basket toss if I got Ben Mayhew to ask me out.”
Coach Higgins frowns. Jess starts to stammer, but Coach talks over her. “Why do you care who dates a Mustang?”
“Because Ben rejected Jess, and I have a suspicion that’s never happened before.”
Jess sneers. “At least I’m not fucking a murderer.”
“Jess!” Coach Higgins voice is tight with anger.
My shoulders go rigid. “He went through a tragedy, Jess. My God, what is wrong with you? Are you really willing to cause another scandal for this school because you can’t handle the fact that Ben didn’t like you? News flash: None of us like you. You’re petty and back-stabbing and try to take down others to feel better about yourself.”
Jess’ face has gone nearly purple with rage, and she’s shaking. She sucks in a breath, but Coach Higgins shouts over her.
“Enough!” Coach pinches the bridge of her nose for a moment before looking back at us. “Is this really what this is about? Because you’re jealous of Nara?”
Behind me, I hear more of my teammates filtering in. No one speaks.
“I am not jealous,” Jess hisses. Her voice is tripping higher, coming unhinged. “She doesn�
�t even deserve to be here. God, she’s on my cheer team, in my sorority. I can’t get away from her.” Jess glares at me, but her eyes have gone manic. “Jesus, she shouldn’t even be here. She just gets everything because she’s black.”
My insides hollow out. So that’s it. That’s actually it. She thinks I don’t deserve what I’ve worked my ass off for, that I only get things because of the color of my skin.
“Out,” Coach Higgins whispers.
Jess’ nostrils are flaring; she’s breathing hard. But then she blinks quickly, and her mouth drops open, and I think she finally realizes what she’s just said.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Out,” Coach says, louder now. Behind us, my teammates are murmuring, but I don’t dare look at them. Do they agree with Jess? Secretly, do they think I’m on the team because I’m black?
“I can’t believe you’re kicking me out,” Jess says.
Coach Higgins straightens her shoulders and stares at Jess. “I’m not just kicking you out. You’re off my team.”
Jess’ eyes pop wide, then she slams past me and stalks out. Finally, I glance at the other cheerleaders. No one seems sad to see Jess go. Madison, Chad, and a few others come over, their features open wide with shock.
“Ding dong,” Chad whispers next to me. “The witch is dead.”
“Stop it,” I whisper back. “She probably didn’t mean it.” Then I shake my head. Why try to make excuses for Jess? I look up at Chad. “Actually, don’t stop. That felt good to tell her off.”
Chad wraps an arm around me, and the team gathers around us and Coach Higgins.
“Well,” she says, her cheeks still red from the fight with Jess. “We have work to do before Saturday’s game. Let’s get to it.”
She nods at me, and we warm up the basket toss.
Chapter Nineteen
Ben
I SWING MY ARMS BACK and forth, pumping blood through my body. The pads strapped over my shoulders still feel a bit unwieldy, a bit awkward, but it won’t stop me from sprinting down the field.
